


Holy Crooked Cop Force, Batman!

by Alexicon



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: ACAB, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 08:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19826665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexicon/pseuds/Alexicon
Summary: The police force isn’t always the best place for someone who believes in doing the right thing.





	Holy Crooked Cop Force, Batman!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spacestationtrustfund](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacestationtrustfund/gifts).



> Wrote this for my good friend Mochi, who convinced me to post it.

Dick was complaining to Bruce again about his job again. The only surprising part was that he was actually in the Batcave in person this time, rather than over the phone or on the monitor like he’d done the past two weeks due to his captain forcing him to stay in town until a certain internal affairs case wrapped up.

“—and it sucks because even people who had nothing to do with it had something to do with it! How many times can you cover up for a coworker before you start to get suspicious about why they need it? I’ll tell you!—”

“None times,” Bruce repeated along with Dick. This was not the first time he had asked that question, or given that answer. Bruce loved when his children visited (and when they actually spoke, instead of chilly silences and—occasionally—rubber bullets right to the kevlar), but Dick hadn’t yet gotten to the stage of complaining where he asked for advice, and offering unsolicited advice when he was still in the middle of the ranting stage was asking for an argument.

“—I’d say that cops like these are giving good cops a bad name, but I’m not even sure that those exist anymore. Maybe I’m not even a good cop. Maybe I’ve been poisoned by this shit.”

“Language,” Bruce chided automatically. Dick scoffed. (Bruce would guess he also rolled his eyes, but Dick already had his mask on. Bruce theorized it made him feel less like a police officer, but he wasn’t asking anytime soon.) “I can count the number of good cops I know on one hand, and you’re the third and final one,” he admitted. It’s a slight exaggeration, but not by much. Jim Gordon’s only solace was that at least some of the people bankrolling half his department didn’t care to interfere with their sponsored police employee’s job sometimes.

“Me too,” said Dick, glum. “I think mine are the same as yours.” He sighed, long and dramatic, and dropped onto the ground to stretch his leg muscles.

Bruce waited, sensing that this was when he would finally ask:

“What do you think I should do?” Dick said, quietly enough that Bruce had to read his lips to confirm that he had at last asked the question Bruce was waiting for. “I don’t know if I can stand being around these people. I know that not all of the people involved in this were caught, and even the people who weren’t involved in this specific case use their power over others in horrible ways. What do I do?”

Bruce lowered himself down, sitting next to Dick and placing a hand on his back. “You can’t work in a place where you can’t trust people to have your back, Dick.”

Dick groaned, throwing his head back. Then he collapsed almost gracefully, dropping to rest his forehead on Bruce’s shoulder. “I know. I hate this. I have to quit, don’t I? I can’t do this anymore. Ugh, Jason’s going to be so smug.”

“I think he’ll be happy for you,” Bruce assured. (And also smug. The two weren’t mutually exclusive.) He patted Dick’s back in comfort, marveling that he could barely wrap his arm around Dick’s shoulder. He was so big now. Bruce remembered when he could have easily carried Dick on one shoulder—that would be so much more difficult at his current size and weight. He’d probably need a platform of some kind to balance Dick on one shoulder. Bruce made a mental note to look into that later. It could be useful in rescue situations to have a sturdier frame to carry people on without fear of them sliding off if he needed to use his arms.

“What will I do, though?” Dick asked, half plaintively and half genuinely wondering. “With my wonderful resumé of circus kid and cop, what the hell kind of job should I get?”

Bruce grimaced. “In all honesty, you should probably either get a part-time job or no job at all, so that and your activities as Nightwing don’t exhaust you into unhealthiness.”

Dick laughed sharply, and then thought about it and started cackling. “You’re advising I relax? You?”

“What.”

“Wow, sorry, I wasn’t aware this was hypocrite hour.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bruce lied, feeling warm. At least Dick had smiled. “I’ve never worked a day in my life.”

“Liar.”

“Anyway,” said Bruce, “I think you should take a break from any jobs for a while, let your body rest. You can’t be at your best if you don’t rest.”

“Ugh, you’re such a dad. You’re rhyming? I’m suffering,” Dick whined. He burrowed further into Bruce’s shoulder vengefully, then sighed. “But you’re right. I’ll put in my notice when I get back in town.” He stayed there, by Bruce’s side.

Something in Bruce’s heart felt like fireworks, but that was okay. It happened a lot around his kids.


End file.
